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dejwritesarchived · 2 years

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀─── ⠀ ⠀⠀ jersey chaser⠀ 〳 ⠀ o.aiku ‵

❪ ♡ ❫ ─── ( synopsis ) she's been a jersey chaser until she met him.

♡ ˙ ˖ ✧ — reader discretion is advised: female reader, female anatomy described, her/she pronouns, written with black reader in mind, jersey chaser!reader, slight bratty!reader, mentions of reader being an influencer, reader in her lori harvey phase iykyk, mentions of reader being a daughter of a famous soccer player, mentions of slutshaming, mentions of pubes, mentions of oliver being uncut, dom!oliver, oral (m.receiving), he humbles reader immediately, slight sports player crossover and up to reader's interpretation on who the volleyball player is lol, sleazeball oliver, dirty talk, degradation kink, degrading pet names (slut), slight praise kink, doggystyle position, possessive!oliver, adding breeding kink in here for @lawscorazon, does he make reader wear his jersey while they're doing the nasty....yes, could this be turned into a mini series..maybe, word count: 3.8k

YOU WERE ONE OF THE BIGGEST INFLUENCERS IN THE WORLD. With a growing following of over half a million and thousands of likes on every social media post you post. You were the daughter of a legendary soccer player (now coach). You've accomplished everything you wanted, thanks to your father's funds. You've got your makeup business that's been booming since you were a teenager. Now that you were young and living your life, you couldn't help but dip your toes in the dating pool of sports players. Collecting jersey numbers like they were the bright infinity stones Thanos collected in the Marvel movies.

You were young, so why settle down so soon. Why was it such an issue that you kept your options open? You couldn't help that you gravitated towards the sports players. From the basketball players in the NBA to one of MSBY Black Jackals players. You've sat courtside during so many games that you have lost count. However, now that you've taken a break from the dating pool and decided to be single for a couple of months—you are interested in getting a taste of your next prey.

And it just had to be him. Oliver Aiku.

You thought you could use the same charm as him during your father's charity ball that brought many soccer players (both old and new) together to auction off legendary and expensive things to help fund little league soccer teams worldwide. You bat your eyelashes at him flirtatiously. You tried to impress him by being the highest bidder on an item you could care less for. The usual charms that would have had any other person eating from the palm of your hand were a complete fail.

Or so you thought.

You remembered the goosebumps that decorated your skin as you stood outside the luxury hotel where the charity event was being held. Mumbling to yourself how you were ready to go home—mop about being curved to your best friend and then do some retail therapy. That was until you heard his voice behind you.

"Leaving your own father's event so soon?" His head tilts slightly while he's shoving his hands in the pockets of his nicely tailored suit.

Even you could tell he was a bit uncomfortable in the attire he had to wear tonight. You rubbed your arms, hoping it would help warm you up as you waited for your driver to pull around with the car.

"I've done my duties as his daughter. I showed up." Your shoulders shrug before you go back to doing what you were doing.

It wasn't anything you could say to him after you made a fool of yourself by attempting to flirt with him just to be met with a very cold, harsh steel door. You could feel his presence next to you as if he wasn't going to leave until you eventually got in the car.

"I've heard about you." Oliver's voice trails off, alluding to the things you already knew about yourself.

You already had to read about it in gossip magazines, so hearing it from a guy you had your eyes set on—wasn't new. Your eyes glance over at him, and you don't even notice how intensely he stares at you. You watched as he let his tongue glide across his lips—drinking in your looks for the evening. Instantly, the once coldness you felt due to the crisp nightly air went away from your body, radiating heat just by the way Oliver looked at you. The ball was no longer yours to guide like usual, he had the upper hand, and he knew it.

"Hm, nothing new. I'm a slut, and my father needs better control over me. I've heard about me too." You sighed while opening your clutch.

You were searching for nothing. Just to avoid having to meet those green and purple eyes of his. Those heterochromia eyes could put any woman in a trance. Similar to a snake charmer trying to guide a rattlesnake.

"Yeah, something along those lines and that you are a jersey chaser." His chuckle was low enough for you to hear him. "That's fuckin' hilarious."

"Hahaha, laugh it up." Sarcasm oozes from your tongue, and you realize that he is getting a rise out of his.

"So what do you do? Steal their jerseys after breaking their precious little heart so severely that they can't focus on their game?"

You finally turned to look at him. Swapping the weight of your body from one red bottom to the other. Your arms crossed over your chest before rolling your eyes, "If you didn't curve me, you would have found out, Mr. Aiku." You had seen your personal driver pull up in front of the hotel.

Your driver, whose known you since you were little, would rush to open your car door, but he immediately stopped his actions due to Oliver stopping you from opening the door yourself. The door to the black Benz truck slapped shut, and you couldn't help but eye Oliver questioningly. You hated the fact that the ball was no longer yours—he had full control, and you couldn't entirely read him to gain the ball back.

He inches closer, abruptly closing the gap between you two. He's holding a hotel room card between his index and middle finger—waving it in your face as if it's your father's credit card. "Then show me."

Your eyebrow raises at him, wondering when he changed his mind. However, you had no time to wonder when this was the perfect opportunity to regain control of the ball. Beat him at his own game. You told your driver that he could go home for the evening, considering that you planned to spend the whole night with Oliver. Your plush lip gloss-covered lips curve into a harmless smile before you turn towards the hotel entrance, dragging Oliver swiftly by the black tie he had around his neck.

You didn't care about the people in the lobby seeing you with him. That's the thing, you never cared about being caught out with another person because it wasn't their business. Your manicured finger jabbed at the elevator button, and as soon as the doors slid open, you waltzed inside with your head held up. As soon as the elevator closed with the two of you inside, it was as if a switch had gone off between you. You instantly let your lips crush upon each other, grasping each other bodies. Your leg hooked up his waist as your back was leaned against the elevator wall. Before you could mumble about people walking on the elevator as it was going up, your lips gasped apart, feeling his hands reach between your thighs.

Oliver nibbled on your lip, teasing, letting his tongue glide across it afterward before he pulled away as soon as the elevator opened on the floor you two were going to. You watched completely breathless as he shoved his hands in his pockets and walked off the elevator as if the two of you weren't so close to tearing each other clothes off right in the elevator. "Cocky bastard." You mumbled to yourself.

You followed behind eagerly, though just as he reached his hotel room. He unlocked the door, but before he opened it, he leaned against it and looked at you. "You know what you're getting yourself into, right?"

Your eyes roll at his words, "Of course, I'm not some timid little girl." You push your way into the hotel room.

You didn't waste time stripping from the elegant velvet gown you wore tonight. The hotel air sent a chill down your spine as you plopped down on the king-size bed. The warmth of the sheets hitting your bare skin caused you to close your eyes. You were completely basking in the scent of the hotel room. It smelled like Oliver if you focused hard enough. Just as you were about to complain about what was taking him so long, you could feel something getting thrown at you.

"Put this on." He mumbles as he walks around the hotel room, removing the attire he wore tonight.

You sat up, extending the clothing he had thrown at you. It was his jersey. "Why'd you want me to wear this?" You asked. You tugged the jersey over your head to put it on.

Oliver glances up from removing cufflinks that had his initials engraved in them. He looks you up and down from head to toe. From how your hair seemed to be in the perfect shape to how he could even get a peak of your ass with each movement you made with his jersey on. He understood why many sports players gravitated towards wanting to even get a date with you. You were stunning—absolutely breathtaking. However, Oliver wasn't like the others.

"You look good in it, don't you think? Better than wearing that volleyball play jersey." Oliver smirks as he closes the gap between you two.

Some buttons were undone on the crisp white button-down shirt he wore. His black slacks hung loosely around his waist, and his hair was now disheveled from his slender fingers combing through it.

You swallowed the lump that formed in your throat, noticing that he was moving closer toward you. The ball still wasn't in your grasp. As soon as you willingly slide his jersey on your body to be entrapped by the scent of him from the piece of clothing, you no longer have the upper hand.

"Don't you think you'll be even prettier with my cock in your mouth?"

Your brain never got so stuck on a question. Primarily when you were known to dodge red-carpet report gossip questions. Your fingers toyed with the ends of the jersey, not sure what to say.

"I think you would look prettier. Mouth full of cock, drool dripping down, staining my jersey..." Oliver's voice trails off like a broken poem spoken during open mic night.

Your panties grew damp with each syllable that rolled off his tongue to the point where you were mentally cursing yourself for folding so quickly.

So much for attempting to gain control?

Before Oliver could say anything else, you're dropping to your knees without another word. Your eyes met with his as you're thirstily tugging the black slacks down his ankles. Your hand teasingly brushed against his bulge through his boxers. "What you waiting for, for me to shove it in your mouth?" His tone comes off as significantly condensing—as if he is growing impatient.

"Didn't know you were in a rush." You commented as you leaned forward on your knees, fingers grasping at the band of his black-colored Calvin Klein's.

Your mouth watered at the sight of his cock. Oliver's lips parted to spit out a sarcastic comment, but before he could give you the pleasure of that—you're pushing yourself closer on your knees to take him in your mouth. Instantly your hand grasped at the shaft of his cock that couldn't fit into his mouth, slowly stroking it teasingly as you pucker your lips to kiss the tip of his cock. Your lips began to stain with the taste of his precum that leaked through the slit of his tip, and you seemed to moan at the feeling of your mouth being stuffed. Your eyes shifted close to relinquish the sense of pleasuring Oliver.

With your teasing kitten licks, Oliver took it upon himself to buck his hips to feel more of your mouth. With each thrust forward, the tip of his cock tapped at the back of your throat, causing you to gag. Your drool begins to pool out your mouth messily, and Oliver's eyes glistened in amusement at the sight. His fingers toy with your curls before he pulls you off his cock with a seductive pop.

Your tear-filled eyes stared up at Oliver, completely breathless as you were attempting to enjoy being able to breathe once again. Oliver's lips curve into a devious smirk as he leans down to grab hold of your face, his callous hands squishing your cheeks together for your lips to pucker. He's leaning in as if he wants to kiss you, but he pulls away.

"If you ball your left hand in a fist, maybe, just maybe, you'll handle my cock in your mouth better." He teased before he tried again.

His cock once again took comfort in your mouth, and you're taking note of his tip this time. Your fist balled up while you inched forward. Slowly his cock disappears in your mouth bit by bit.

Your drool stained the jersey on your body with each brash thrust forward. Your eyeliner smudged down your heated cheeks as you looked up at Oliver through your teary eyes. Even though his thick cock was taking your breath bit by bit—your eyes still twinkled in admiration for the soccer player, and your panties grew damper.

"Give me one good suck; remember what I told you. 'kay?" His fingers grasp at your coils as if he was your hair stylist—ushering you forward some more to deepthroat him.

In just a quick second, you're willing to shove Oliver's cock back in your mouth until the tip of your nose is met with the coarseness of his pubic hair. His hand instantly pressed on the back of your head, entrapping you from escaping of the fiery feeling of your throat being used recklessly. As he told you, you breathed through your nose while your hand grasped his toned thighs. Your manicured nails dug into his flesh, but you knew he could care less about some nail marks on him when his cock was in your pretty mouth. Your eyes closed just in time for a single tear to drag down your cheeks before he let your head snap back so you could catch your breath. Similar to drinking your first cup of alcohol, your throat burns. The string of saliva connected between your plush bottom lip and his cock was quite a sight if you two were filming a porno.

Your knees ached from the carpet below your body as you watched Oliver finally kick his feet from the slacks around his ankles. He palmed his cock effortlessly to coat the remainder of your saliva on him.

"Get on the bed on all fours." He urges with proficiency in his tone.

"You want to be a jersey chaser, but you must earn the jersey first, princess."

His words sent a shiver down your spine. You did what you were told too quickly; you wanted to question yourself if he had some spell cast on you. You not spitting out some snarky comment during comments weren't your thing. Perhaps his cock bruising the back of your throat put you in your place, but it was too soon to judge when his cock hadn't driven its way inside you.

With your butt up in the air, you quivered, feeling his callous fingertips trace alongside the curve of your spine. His thick cock resting in between your cheeks. Your hips bucked back just to feel some friction—your pussy twitching in anticipation of feeling Oliver's cock.

"Don't be so impatient. My dick isn't going anywhere." His fingertips teasingly trace his name on your spine.

You felt the pad of Oliver's thumb brushing against your pussy lips through your soaked panties. Your teeth nibbled on your lower lip before you spoke, "Could you stop the teasing?"

Oliver ignored your question as he tugged the lace fabric down your thighs. As if you're a fragile doll, he's helping you out of your panties. "Now I see why you're so impatient," Oliver mumbles as he grabs hold of his cock, guiding it towards you.

The relaxed sigh that came from Oliver when his cock felt how wet you were was like music to your ears. Your body felt so hot, feeling him shove his cock inside you little by little. Not because he wanted you to get used to his size but to push you further to the edge to beg for more.

"Please." You whimpered out as your fingers intertwined with the sheets.

"That's what I wanted to hear." He leans over, placing the sloppiest kisses down your spine.

You felt so strange because, during your other hookups, you never felt like this. Your body never felt like it was going through a continuous fever by just a subtle task like pasting kisses on your spine covered with his jersey. Your pussy never fluttered around a man's cock in anticipation. Simply curious about how exactly the Oliver Aiku strokes were.

They started off slowly; perhaps he was getting used to your drooling cunt gripping around him like a tight glove. Then the pace quickened, and the grip on your waist tightened. He now had a pace that was pleasurable for both of you. It left you creaming and fluttering around his cock, making you feel like you were on top of the world. It made Oliver feel so pussy drunk that he saw stars. The adrenaline going through his veins at the moment felt similar to when he was doing what he does best on the field. His multi-colored hair began sticking to his forehead due to the sweat droplets dribbling down his forehead. His hands grasped at his jersey that you wore so perfectly—using the jersey to yank back on his cock like a toy yo-yo.

The lewd sound of heated skin slapping against each other could be heard in the hotel room. You were sure Oliver didn't care for the guests residing in the neighboring hotel rooms. With each buck of his hip, it seems to have more aggression to it. Each thrust felt like he was attempting to express something.

Your whimpers and his hushed whines continued to intertwine with each other like a sultry tune. In such a pornographic position with your hip gripped so tightly that you were sure it was getting bruised—you adored hearing Oliver's moans. They were brash yet whiny. He was enjoying this just as much as you.

"Where does my pretty little slut want my cum, hm?" Oliver asked.

With each word that came out, he pushed his hips forward harshly to meet the plumpness of your handprint-stained ass cheeks. Your tears stained the sheets below your body as you let out muffled moans at Oliver's question—completely ignoring his question because you were so close to crumbling down yourself.

"Your back." His grip on your waist tightens as he bottoms down inside of you. Shoving his full weight upon you, completely entrapping you from running away from his harsh thrusts.

"Or maybe inside this pretty pussy of yours, hm? So many choices." He grunts out.

It became too inaudible for you to answer his question when the only feeling you could feel was the sensational feeling that sat at the pit of your stomach. Your thighs shook violently, feeling Oliver's pace only quicken. In a matter of seconds, you saw stars in your tear-filled eyes, and the only form of language you knew was Oliver's name while your cunt fluttered around his thick cock—just in time for him to finally decide where to cum at.

Despite the two of you hitting a high of pleasure—that didn't stop Oliver from filling you up with his cum. His hips sloppily push forward to ensure no droplets of his cum escape. Oliver released his grasp on your waist as he hesitantly pulled out, his cock coated with a ring of his cum.

When exhaustion finally hit you, your body felt like a fresh bowl of Jell-O. Your limbs felt like you did the same training your dad would put guys in his training camp through. Instantly, you're sitting up to grasp your gown on the ground—but Oliver stops you.

"I don't stay the night when this.." Your hand motions between the two of you. "Happens." You add.

"Now you do; you're too exhausted to even move."

"No, I'm not."

"Well, want to go another round?" Oliver grins down at you, and you glimpse up at him before letting your body drop back on the mattress below your body.

"You're insane, I'm going to sleep."

As you got comfortable on the king-size mattress, you heard Oliver chuckle and disappear into the bathroom. Before uttering any other snarky comment, you drifted off to sleep with Oliver on your mind.

The following morning, you woke up to the sun kissing your soft skin and the constant dinging of your cell phone. Your eyes fluttered open, and you stretched like an exhausted black cat before reaching for your phone on the nightstand. You pushed yourself up and grasped at the hotel sheets. The previous night was a vivid blur until you noticed the spot where Oliver was laying was empty. You woke up alone with the scent of Oliver engraving your skin and breakfast on the table in the corner. Your hand went to rub the sleep out of your eyes while scrolling through your countless social media notifications. You would have thought that you had flashed a stranger with the way your phone had been going off.

Your plan of silencing your phone and returning to continue your beauty rest was halted when you finally saw the post that had everyone in a frenzy. Oliver had tagged you in a picture wearing his jersey. You assumed he took the picture after you had dozed off after the amazing sex the two of you engaged in. The caption had your eye twitching in annoyance—but it reminded you that with Oliver, he'll always have the upper hand.

According to Oliver, you were no longer collecting jerseys.

— tags: @lawscorazon @eiflawriting @maydayaisha @sailewhoremoon @simpliheavenli @whore4mikey @gg-trini @saaturno @sirenh4ll @wh0reforlevi @m00nchildthings @foxthroats @cherrypussprincess @anahryal @orchid3a @hellshedevil @21-06-1996 @iluvgiveon99 @la-musaa @fairylibra @black-yn @smileyy-cakee @shamelesshoefairy @bubble4u @mimi321us @atesumu @kristvns @b-achiras @diorlov3er @dior-fawn @stunnababyyabyyy @sookisaurus @aizensballsweat @jellymantra33 @http-twyla @euixnaa @cactusmghao

#bluelock x reader #bluelock smut #oliver aiku x reader #oliver aiku smut #anime smut #anime x reader #sports anime x reader #sports anime smut #female reader #black reader #x black reader #fem reader #blue lock smut #blue lock x reader #bl x reader

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lizzibennet · 1 year

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i’ve always lived among people who had much more money than my family because my mom worked for rich people and my brother and i always got scholarships because of good grades. and so one of the things that always kind of bothered me was that my friends always had much cooler, cleaner, tidier houses than i did. we’d go to their places after school for homework or just to hang and there wouldn’t be a hair out of place. one of my friends had a mezzanine with comics and a nintendo wii especially for her to hang out with friends. the other lived in a corner house with a tennis court which i always admired when passing in front of and i literally freaked out when i realized he lived there. one of them had a barbie house taller than us, one had a pool, one had a rooftop pool and cherry trees that were blossoming when i was over, etc. and i would tell them wow your house is so cool. mine is so messy and always dirty, and if i want it clean i usually am the one who ends up cleaning it, and i do my own laundry whereas you even have maids everyday! and they’d shrug and be like it’s cool i guess. but it’s not my house, it’s my parents’.

and that would always give me pause.

i’d think about the completely out of place shell dish that lives on top of the living room rack for the sole reason that my mom puts the earrings she steals from me there so i can retrieve them if i leave before she’s woken up. i think about my dad’s “mess closet” which is precisely what it sounds like but it’s where he goes when i ask him for the shoemaker’s glue to fix my jelly shoes and for the mini electric saw he used to saw through one of my dolls’ neck (long story) and where he goes when my brother asks him for specific sized screwdrivers to open up his childhood remote controlled toys. i’d think about the laundry closet divided in two because my mom owns a lot of delicate work shirts and swears i wash them better than her (it’s the same washing machine at the same cycle). i’d think about the four little giraffes besides the tv - according to my mom, tallest to shortest representing my brother, me, my dad and my mom, which my dad has never loved because Obviously He Is Taller Than Me but encourages the cat to curl up next to them to sleep so he can take a picture and send our family whatsapp group named “grimy family”. i’d think about my brother’s car’s engine laying open in the garage because he couldn’t finish it in time before returning to uni and my dad carefully picking it all up and tidying before he returns except my dad really is kind of shit at tidying so it’s all just kinda. laying there. i’d think about my mom washing my clothes on the weekend and laying them at the foot of the stairs because i don’t like when she just shoves my stuff into my room even though clothing in the stairs obviously makes the living room look even worse. i’d think about the medicine books lining the living room table because my mom saw them at an auction and picked them up for me even though i’m not in med school yet and i’d think about the socks my dad leaves besides the cat besides the giraffes besides the tv because my mom often falls asleep watching the novela and gets cold feet and i’d think about the hideous rio de janeiro postal my brother brought me one day when he was on break that hangs in the kitchen and i’d think about the air fryer and the juicer my dad never fucking puts away and permanently now live atop the cooktop which has been broken since 2015 and i’d think about my jelly shoes under the chair where the cat likes to sleep with my smell near and my hair clip that broke the first time i went out with my girlfriend which my mom kept, you guessed it, on top of my representative giraffe because she thinks she wears it better than i do, even if it’s broken, that’s fine, doesn’t it still look so pretty? and i’d look around at the pristine white pillars and granite and impeccably kept real wood and the techy dishwashers and color changing lamps and king sized beds of my friends’ and i’d finally cave in and text grimy family and be like can any of u guys come get me. and 5 mins later my mom would say “your dad and i are on our way”. and i’d breathe a sigh of relief. and come back to the messy house in front of the square. it was either this one or the one between the family that owns the range rover and the police chief that owns the old reformed cadillac and i wanted this one and my dad immediately agreed even though he loves both cadillacs and jeeps and campaigned for the other house before. and i’d lay down in my silly little square front house in my bed with my cat and my parents next door and my brother’s empty room full of his correspondence next to my bathroom full of hair masks atop the cabinet. and i wouldn’t have it any other fucking way

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delopsia · 1 year

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The first thing you and Bob learn about Rhett is that he's a fancy dress and a fairy Godmother away from being a damn Disney Princess.

And the night that you met him and Bob was your first warning sign.

The three of you were curled into the back of his truck, sipping on drinks and fighting through a bout of uncomfortable silence, when all of a sudden, a bird landed on Rhett's boot. A little house finch, eyeing up the handful of sunflower seeds in his hand.

And out went Rhett's big hand, dirty palm full of more seeds than that little finch could possibly need. "D'ya think I can convince 'em to come home with me?"

Your head cocked to the side as you watched the bird hop right into his hand. Fearless. "That might cost you a lot of seeds."

"Are birds your favorite animal?" Bob had hummed. Some deep rumbling of words that had no right to sound as wonderful as they did.

"Nah," Rhett's head shook a little too fast, sending the bird fleeing to the safety of the roof of his truck. "don't think I got a favorite, actually."

For the longest time, you couldn't wrap your mind around why that was.

He's late to your second date because he's chased a stray kitten up a tree. Walks in the front door with his hair sticking out in every direction; doesn't realize that he's lost his hat because he's too busy apologizing for being so late. Midway through your meal, a little orange head pops out the neck of his shirt, defiantly yelling for a bite of Bob's raisin bread.

And that is how you meet Raisin.

Short for Raisin' Hell.

Raisin' Hell gets up on the kitchen counter two nights later and knocks several of Cecelia's beloved fine china onto the floor.

You'll never forget how Cecelia's voice traveled through the phone. "If y'dont get rid of that damn cat, then I will!"

Fortunately, Bob's friend Natasha is so enthralled with the story that she makes a pitstop in Wyoming to pick up the little ball of fluff. Justifying the adoption with a, "What can I say? The kitten has good taste!"

Coincidentally, a week later, Bob mentions his buddy Jake sneezing and complaining of a cat allegery.

Then, one day, Rhett drops off the face of the Earth shortly after telling you that he's heading to a livestock auction. You and Bob already know that he's out to fetch a pair of donkeys because they've recently developed a hell of a coyote problem. Yet, you're already making bets on what extra animal is going to come with the donkeys.

He wakes you both up the next morning, begging you to join the video call the second you get the chance.

"Look!" Giddy, as he triumphantly points to the little figure in the pasture, "I found a mini version of my horse!"

And it's a little black Shetland pony, a senior who has been retired to the pasture life. Affectionately named Fred by the previous owner. He came as a package deal with two donkeys, Zig and Zag. Royal is livid about the extra mouth to feed, but Amy is already attached.

Fred lives a good two years out in the pasture before old age takes him on a cozy autumn afternoon. He's buried out by an Oak tree in the South pasture, and a lock of his mane forever rests in Rhett's old wooden chest. Right next to the urn of a childhood dog named Rascal and the manes of his first two horses, Winnie and Coal.

Rhett's buddy Archie wakes you with a text one summer night, demanding that you get a handle on your cowboy. And you don't know why until Bob calls later that morning, asking if you've heard about the turkey.

How Rhett got shitfaced and acquired a whole, live turkey is anyone's guess.

Teddy the Turkey doesn't ever really leave the ranch. Maybe out of fear of Thanksgiving, being wrangled by another drunk cowboy, or just plain acceptance of his situation. Hell, it could be all of the above.

It must be a drunk thing because Cecelia tells you that he's come home with all sorts of things, from a family of bunnies to countless opossums. Every dog on the ranch has made its way there due to Rhett.

Then comes the move, and for the longest time, you expect for Rhett to come in with an armload of puppies and kittens. If he's even so much as a minute late, you're suspicious until he rolls in the front door, certain that some little critter is going to be in tow.

But he doesn't bring home a damn thing.

One afternoon, your phone lights up with a black-and-white photo. An ultrasound of...something.

Bob's name flashes across the screen next. Who's ultrasound pictures did you steal?

Then comes Rhett one more time. Someone's gelding wasn't a fucking gelding.

Rhett's mare being pregnant was not on anyone's bucket list for the year. But he loves that horse to absolute pieces, and it comes as no surprise that he's already looking forward to having a second pair of legs running around.

Archie offers to buy the little foal off of him.

Rhett almost eats him alive.

You suppose you shouldn't be surprised about that, either.

The vet says that Isabela can be ridden for a few more months, but Rhett's so concerned about accidentally hurting her and her baby that rides stop the same day. For the foreseeable future, Isabela's adventures are limited to long walks through the trails on the ranch he works on.

But having his only horse out of commission means that Rhett's cowboy career just got a little tougher.

Enter Sparrow, a bay quarter horse whom Rhett leases from a friend.

At least he leases Sparrow for the first month and then decides that Sparrow is the new member of the family. Which works out better than planned because on the months that he's off from a deployment, Bob loves to spend Sunday afternoons taking Sparrow out on trail rides.

Maeve is born a little under nine and a half months later. A black filly with a white blaze running down her forehead and an attitude bigger than she is. From the moment she's up on her feet, she's trying to buck and kick Bob, furious that he's trying to scratch her little hip. It'll be a few years before she can be ridden, but you already know that Rhett will have his hands full.

Maeve gets everything. Blankets, custom halters, handmade treats, morning and afternoon pets, hell, Rhett even figures out Instagram for her. You name it, she gets it. And not only is she the diva of the town, but when she gets older, she's one of the best horses in the area.

Never quite loses the attitude, though.

The first spring after Bob officially leaves the Navy, he decides to get chickens. Builds the coop himself and all. It's been on his bucket list for the better half of a decade now, and he's finally got the time to take care of them. He buys four Buff Orpingtons, but the girl at the feed store must have gotten confused because he comes home to find that he has three Orpingtons and a Silkie.

He goes back to get an extra Silkie so that the little dude doesn't feel like an outcast.

Rhett hates them.

"All those fuckers do is peck the shit outta me!"

"Because they're chickens, Rhett! They're gonna peck things!"

You fully expect him to come around and warm up to them eventually, but it never happens. A year passes, and Rhett's still side-eyeing the collection of poultry on the side of the house. Entering the coop only when you politely ask him to fetch you a few eggs, and even then, he furrows his eyebrows and grumbles beneath his breath.

Then there's one afternoon when Bob comes home from a meeting to a suspicious bowl on the counter.

A chirping bowl.

A bowl of newly hatched button quail.

"Yeah, I stuck 'em in there 'till I could find a place to put 'em," Rhett says when he meanders back into the kitchen, slightly larger box in hand.

You're the next to stumble into this situation, sleepy-eyed and rubbing at your cheek, halfway down the stairs. Aren't quite sure what is going on; all you know is that you've walked into a standoff, and something is wandering around by the sofa.

Something yellow.

A...tiny chicken?

Even as you scoop it up, it doesn't seem real. So incredibly small that it's closer to a toy than a living, breathing animal.

"What's this?" You yawn, holding your hand out, tiny bird on full display.

Little do you know, in your halfawake state, that some new members have joined your busy little family. Even if those family members were found at a gas station for twenty-five cents per dozen.

The coffee maker has just finished bubbling when it hits you.

Rhett doesn't have a favorite animal because every animal is his favorite animal, and he wants to take them all home with him.

Except for chickens.

#bob floyd x reader x rhett abbot #bob floyd #rhett abbott #delgato's warmups #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott x you #robert bob floyd #robert floyd

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invertebrates · 2 years

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bug toys!

alright, here’s my mini-guide to getting into the world of Weirdly Articulated, almost entirely Japanese bug toys.

some caveats:

1) most of these toys aren’t great for kids. they have a lot of small lose-able, breakable, poke-able parts and can fall apart pretty easily. 2) i’m in the US, so i’m not quite sure how to acquire these things if ebay and Buyee don’t work for you 3) ‘bugs’ for the purpose of this guide (and entire blog tbh) is any invertebrate why would i want fake bugs when i can get real bugs? 1) fake bugs don’t die and can be neglected forever. they will never bite, sting, poop on you, or be stinky (unless you make them stinky) 2) fake bugs can be handled constantly, they will not get stressed out or pick up any germs from you 3) fake bugs can be much larger than real bugs, or be species that would be impossible or unethical to own or breed. they can even be fun made up creatures 4) fake bugs don’t require any kind of tank, substrate or food, and they will not breed uncontrollably (or at all) 5) they cannot escape and become an invasive species 6) buying them doesn’t support shady or unethical ‘breeders’ who just take bugs from the wild (not saying all bug breeders do this, but it’s definitely a problem with certain kinds of bugs)

this is not to discourage any responsible bug-culturing you might want to get into, but for me, as a pretty depressed person without a lot of space, these are all big plusses!

onto the fake bugs

ikimono encyclopedia

unfortunately these photos will be some dark toys against dark backgrounds because i am a goth bastard and everything i own is black. sorry.

so, these being Japanese toys, I’m not entirely sure of the correct terms for them. these are pretty much just the search terms I’ve discovered over time that work to find them. as far as I can tell, Japan LOVES bugs and has a very enviable appreciation for them, they don’t seem to be considered nearly as gross or weird or bad as they are in the west.

these are a series gachapon or capsule toys. you can get all kinds of awesome little toys, which are often strangely detailed and often high quality, from vending machines in Japan.

here are some current listings from ebay to give you an idea of the variety and prices:

they also have a lot of cool fish and reptiles in this series. prices can be a bit steep, but you’re usually buying the whole set of toys pictured, not just a one-off. they’re usually a few inches, pretty well painted and articulated, and come as individually wrapped kits you have to put together. i will say, sometimes it is hard to snap the legs into place, so if you have hand/joint issues you might need some help putting them together. usually, a lot of these toys might be the same model but repainted, and sometimes there’s duplicates. the two mantises in my photo are from a set of 6, and there were 3 sets of 2 identical boys, so I could display one with the wings out and another one folded. they’ll also sometimes come with a little piece of clear plastic and a stand you can pose them on top of.

just from the sheer variety they offer, and relative affordability, this would probably be my first recommendation for getting into bug toys. they have beetles, mantids, caterpillars, wasps, ispods, crabs... i’d love some myriapod sets but we’ll see!

i usually grab these guys off ebay. they’re also available on Buyee and there may be more, cheaper options over there, but I’ve noticed with the import/holding fees, buyee and ebay come out to be about the same most of the time. (for anyone confused, Buyee is an English import service that lets you buy stuff off Japanese sites and auctions, since a lot of Japanese sites only want to ship inside Japan)

these are also just the gachapon bug toys from one specific company. there’s OTHER companies making other sets of really good bugs but I’ve had so much luck with just this one term I haven’t branched out much yet.

Fujimi Living Thing Arc

these are slightly bigger models made out of slightly harder plastic (well, the mantis is bigger; beetles are about the same as the ikimono guys) that are a bit more intricate to put together. they come with assembly instructions, but of course they’re in Japanese. you can pretty much follow along with the pictures though. the painting details aren’t quite as nice, but they have a bit more articulation. not as many choices with this set, though they do have a crawfish I wanna snag. they also have some goofy JP style monster dinos.

i bought these guys off hlj.com but it looks like they’re on ebay(and buyee as well I’m sure)

Revoltech RevoGeo

you’ll probably recognize this name if you’re into transformers or other toy collecting. these guys are gonna be by far the most expensive ($90-$120+) but they are extremely large and high quality. this one is super articulated, the individual leg joints and mandibles move, wings move, about the only thing that isn’t articulated are the individual little tarsomeres/feet segments or the abdomen segments. not as much choice here either, I think they have a beetle, ants, crab and a scorpion plus this wasp. these also come mostly assembled, you can usually just snap the wings on or maybe swap out a few parts (iirc this gal’s stinger can be removed)

i got her off bigbadtoystore.com, though they may be available cheaper elsewhere. BBTS is infamously a bit pricier than other toy stores but they’ve always been very reliable and quick for me.

this BIG isopod

this one won’t be as helpful. these may be part of the same series as the ikimono (they were just labeled bandai gachapon) but they are much larger, this guy’s like 5″, came fully assembled and is pretty articulated. they can even roll into a ball! all their little legs move! i’m pretty sure they’re meant to be one of the large deep sea isopods and man, a 1:1 revoltech model of one of those would be a dream.

completely fake bugs!

had to share my little starship trooper warrior bug collection :^) the big one and the one directly under it are 90s kenner toys I believe, the bottom-right one is a funko, the red one is from a tabletop set, and the guy on the left is a figma model that is unfortunately ridiculously expensive nowadays.

one nice thing about fake real bugs: there is not a crazy collectors market for this so this stuff should stay pretty affordable. unless real normal bugs somehow become a huge pop sensation i think it’s just us weird nerds that are into them.

other search terms to try: bandai insect insect gachapon (or gashapon) nature gachapon

that way you may be able to track down listings for individual toys that should be a bit cheaper! here’s a sample what bandai insect got me on ebay:

happy fake bug collecting!

you may noticed I haven’t mentioned one form of bug that has a lot of the same advantages as plastic bugs: dead pinned insects in shadowboxes. i do have some of these, but i am reluctant to support places selling them nowadays because few are ethically or responsibly sourced, and the same sellers often kill and sell endangered bats and other vertebrates for display. plus mites got into half the ones i had and turned them into dead bug dust. if mites ever develop a taste for plastic i will be sad about my collection but the world will be saved from a lot of nasty garbage so it would ultimately be a Plus.

so unless you personally know the person that pinned the insect, i would be very cautious about buying dead things from random online stores or dealers at ‘curiosity’ or ‘oddity’ shows and things like that, since it’s all sourced from alibaba and whatnot anyway. i swear i saw like 5 different people selling the same dead octopuses in orbs at the last curiosity show i went to. they are cool, but i have no idea where those octopuses came from and i doubt the people selling them did either.

#bugs #entomology #bug collection #insects #toys #toy collecting

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pacific-coast-hockey · 8 months

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youtube

I am not prone to headaches, but trying listen back to this one nearly did me in. I think I was sitting too close to the speakers?? We live and we learn. Follow @/sjbbsharks on yt because I need 50 followers before they'll let me livestream smh. Or maybe I'll look into a Twitch?? Ugh. I'll find another platform before the next prospect interview, fuck Instagram. Anyway, presenting:

BUBBLEGUM CARDSY 🤲🫧

Featuring:

Nolly letting him wax poetic about golf for like 5 minutes 🥲

Saying that after six months in California, he's not going back to the cold

Hyping Anthony Vincent up like it was his job when asked who was the best at mini-golf

"Frischy"

Saying the guys were, in fact, very competitive about whose jersey made the most money at the holiday sweater auction

Restaurant recommendations

His favorite part of San Jose, downtown, which reads to me very much like a cry for help

And more!!!

Honestly, seems like a very thoughtful and genuine guy. Certainly he put up with an incredibly rowdy crowd with grace! I hope he never gets injured but if he DOES I hope he gets to do color commentary with Nolly for a game because I think he'd be really good at it.

#ethan cardwell #san jose barracuda #san jose SHARKS #i'm so mad about the sound quality guys. i will try twitch next time if i don't hit 50 followers on yt #Youtube

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advancement-made · 1 year

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Exclam lore so far, for anyone who missed it:

-We all (minus Nefarious and Status) lived in Item's basement shoppe. Or... Glitches lived in a cardboard box? Or- a house?

-I ran away through a portal that Item has, which leads to Glitches.

-After being creepy and admitting that I had run away, I went to Nefarious and asked for help hiding from Bossfights (who at this point had become drunk with power over a blanket auction). Nefarious agreed to let me stay in his basement/guest bedroom in exchange for an evil advancement.

-One by one, the others followed suit- turning to the Nefarious Wizard for shelter. Glitches and Guide were the first two to join me, if I remember right.

-Nefarious, with help from Mini, killed the sun.

-The ice people emerged from their ice cave due to the sudden cold via unknown means; it was discovered that I kind of glow in the dark.

-Nefarious, in an act of odd heroism, fought the ice people while Mini and I tried to light a giant bonfire to reignite the sun.

-In Mini's attempt to help fix something they accidentally started, it got infected by the ice people. Around that time, Nefarious had fended off the ice people on their end and came to help.

-I squished the sun really hard and it combined with a ball of pure fire and relit. How did I do this without hands? You tell me.

-Status had a thawing device, which Nefarious got from him for 100 gp and a chair, though the deal was originally 50 (capitalism). That was used to un-ice Mini.

-Nefarious, Selection and I all knew the ice people existed but were caught off guard by their appearance due to How Did They Get Here.

-Nefarious and Selection were/are friends.

-Selection lost his eye to the ice people at some point in the past.

If I missed anything or misgendered anyone, please let me know and I'll fix it.

#epprbcu #exclamation point pfp rpg blog cinematic universe #not rpg #exclam lore

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voiceoffenrisulfr · 3 months

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Chapter Nine - "The sea is emotion incarnate. It loves, hates, and weeps. It defies all attempts to capture it with words and rejects all shackles."

Winter’s captors reveal their true intentions. CW (contains spoilers!); Kidnapping, torture, physical abuse, slave sale, non-con virginity auction. Prompts used (contains spoilers!); -‘Tomorrow’ – @fandom-free-bingo , Frosty Edition; - “I Don’t Understand.” and ‘Virginity Auction’ – Fandom-Free Bingo, Flight Edition; - ‘Auction’ – Bug’s First Bingo (private event, sorry folks!) - ‘Broken ribs <b>to</b> Stitching Up Wounds’ – @hurtcomfort-bingo; - ‘I Have Your Loved One’ – @badthingshappenbingo; - ‘Coughing Up Blood’ and ‘Auction of Evil’ – @eclipsingbingo; - ‘Torture on Live Broadcast’ – @fandombingo; - ‘Azerbaijan’ – Gen Prompt Bingo; - ‘It’s Just a Flesh Wound.” – @multifandom-flash Mini – Round One (1084); - ‘Missing’ – @fnafbingo; - ‘Handcuffed’ - @anyfandomdarkbingo.

Check it out below, or on AO3 here! Boards at the bottom, divider by yours truly <3

I shifted uncomfortably, squirming a little as consciousness began to sink in, the dull ache of muscles left cramped and unused spreading throughout my body as my awareness returned. I moved my hand to swipe at my face at the feeling of something brushing lightly against my cheek, but found quick, painful resistance, a thin strip around my wrist pressing sharply into the tender skin. With a minute frown, I explored the space around my hand, fingers tentative as they brushed against a taut string of interlinked loops, one end leading to the metal cuff around my wrist, the other to a smooth, cool cylinder rising from the ground behind me and up out of reach.

A pipe of some kind?

I blinked, but the darkness didn’t abate, almost entire save for the faint patches of light, almost cloudy in their appearance. As I moved again, the feeling of fabric on my face occurred once more, and comprehension dawned.

A blindfold.

My heart rate slowed infinitesimally with the understanding, with a brief permeation of the fog in my mind, and my frown deepened as I fought through the shroud, scrambling for any semblance of memory as to how I had gotten here.

We landed in Indonesia. There was a bar… A boy. We talked for a while, about the job. There was a man watching me… He said something to me, didn’t he? What was it? … What…? I can’t remember…

My eyes had closed to focus in spite of the darkness, but they snapped open again at a sudden, sickening thought, fear sending a chill through my body. Lieutenant Tyne… Greg… He won’t know what happened to me. Is that why they moved my bag? So he’d assume I’d bailed, and he wouldn’t look for me? … Would he give up on me so easily?

I shook my head as best I could, chasing the thoughts from my mind. Whether he was looking for me or not, there was no guarantee he’d find me; I’d have to make my own luck.

I tested the chain holding me carefully, but the inside of the cuff was serrated, and once it broke skin, the pain won out, forcing me to release the tension.

I’ve already lost one hand; I don’t need to-

I froze as realisation set in, casting out my senses uncertainly, jaw clenching when my attempts to flex my left hand came to nothing. Mentally mapping the movement of available muscles left me paralysed with dread, breath hitching in my chest, unable to attend to the desire to curl up and hide myself from any eyes that may be on me.

The fuckers took my arm.

My legs moved readily, albeit secured at the ankle, and I explored as best I could, feeling out the seemingly empty space around me. I was seated on the ground, I concluded – a hard and ridged ground, digging uncomfortably into the backs of my thighs.

It was until I swallowed dryly that I released the unobserved pressure in my ears, and an orchestra of sound fell over me – squeaks and tweets, soft voices murmuring – but most distinctly, and perhaps most importantly, the overwhelming din of engine and blades, accompanied by the distinct, crisp chill found in the inhalation of air on a flight.

Panic threatened to overwhelm me, my breaths coming short and painful, fingers curling automatically in preparation to fight an unknown, unknowable captor.

I felt the aircraft beginning to descend long before rubber met tarmac, several years of Spec Ops working to my advantage, and I braced myself milliseconds before a jolting landing. My observer did not seem so lucky; there was the notable clatter of a body hitting the floor, accompanied by a soft huff of air and a groan of discomfort. I couldn’t keep myself from letting out a derisive snort, but the sound was quickly chased by a yelp as the sole of a heavy boot met my ribcage, driving the breath from my lungs and tears to my eyes as something inside me snapped, leaving a sharp, stabbing sensation in its wake.

“You’ll pay for that, dog,” my captor snapped, scrambling audibly back into his seat as the plane came to a stucco stop.

I know that voice… Don’t I? I can’t remember… I struggled with the haze in my mind, frowning when it came to nothing, fingers clenching into a fist behind my back. “Fuck you,” I snapped back, straightening as best my restraints permitted, a growl building in my chest. “How about you untie me, and we’ll see what you’re really made of?”

Hope bloomed in my stomach as I heard him take slow steps closer, and I clenched my jaw to keep from smiling, forcing my expression to remain challenging and cocky. “You must think me an idiot,” he breathed suddenly in the quiet, his breath ghosting over my face unpleasantly. “I know as well as you do that if I untie you, that moment will be my last – you don’t need your metal arm to make you lethal, do you, Sergeant Barnes?”

I simply snarled back, earning a vicious laugh, and a fist slammed into my diaphragm without warning, leaving me coughing and spluttering as I fought to push air into my incapacitated lungs. “P… Prick,” I wheezed eventually, muscles clenching with fury. “Hitting a man when he barely expects it… A cowardly move.”

“Maybe,” he agreed readily, his voice shifting as he moved beside me. “But the smart one when facing a man such as yourself, Sergeant.” He hummed under his breath, a vaguely familiar tune I distinctly knew, and I grunted with relief when the straining against my bound wrist was released – only to curse again when I learned of the secondary tether, securing bound ankles to wrist with barely enough room to stand straight as he forced me to my feet.

“Why are you doing this to me? What the hell do you want with me?” I spat, rage making my arms – arm - shake with the effort of not attempting to drag my hand from its cuff, letting the skin flay in the process.

“Oh, we don’t,” a second voice laughed, nudging me forward until I stumbled, and jerking me back by the chain between my limbs to keep me upright. “It’s not you we’re after. It’s that bastard captain of yours, always sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. You’re just the bait.”

“My Captain,” I echoed softly, and numbness flowed briefly through my body, muscles constricting and rooting me to the spot. “Lieutenant Tyne…” A sharp shake of my head snapped me back to focus, and I stepped toward the voice, anger breaking through my wall of shock, and heard him stumble back in panic. “You leave him alone! What do you want with him? I’ll kill you if you lay a goddamn hand on him!”

I stilled at the click of a hammer beside my head, cool metal touching lightly to my temple, and let out a low growl of frustration. “Now, now. There’s no need for such threats… I intend only to extend the same offer he once gave to me, though in not so many words. Either he retires from him vigilantism, or we kill one of his very favourite crewmates.”

The blindfold was jerked from my eyes, and I blinked in the sudden bright light, struggling to make out little more than outlines as my vision swam.

As it cleared, I managed to pick out details – a familiar jawline and hooked nose, broad hands wrapped loosely around his gun still levelled a few inches from my head.

Blinking harshly, my vision cleared, and I jerked back, stumbling over restraints at the two men before me, who simply smirked down at me as I sprawled to the ground. “You,” I hissed, eyes narrowing at the fishing boat captain grinning ghoulishly at me. The last time I’d seen this man was squaring off against mu own captain, shortly before I was shot and fell into the ocean.

His companion was even more familiar, and perhaps even more unwelcome. The sailor was as tall as I remembered, staring down and me with undisguised hatred and revulsion, and I fought to keep my expression neutral as I met his gaze. “Walker,” I noted evenly, muscles twitching with fury. “Is this how you repay your Captain?”

“That faggot is no captain of mine,” he sneered, eyes narrowing as I bared my teeth in warning. “And we have the perfect repayment in mind, don’t you worry.”

“I don’t understand,” I muttered, jerking forward as Walker grasped my chains to pull me along. “All he ever wanted to do was make the world a nicer place. How can you hate him so much for that?”

“He’s naïve,” the sailor replied simply, not looking at me as I was lead from the cargo hold of a plan bigger than I expected, dozens of crates being unloaded around us. The cacophony of shrieks and tweets finally made sense as I took in animals packed into cages, clawing, and flapping frantically at the bars. “This is the real world.”

“This is humane,” I countered hotly, shaking with rage. “You can’t do this.”

He smirked, ominous and predatory, head cocked to one side. “Who’s going to stop us? You’ll be out of here by tomorrow – wouldn’t do to have you stay in one place for long, would it?”

“Some things sell even better than parrots and shark fins,” the captain chuckled, his eyes cutting to mine, making the fear flow readily in my veins. “Virgin pussy is a rare commodity, after all.”

The room they put me in was bare, save a wire bed frame with a thin blanket offering little protection against the sharp platform or cold concrete.

I curled in a corner, shivering to myself, my arm wrapped desperately around my quivering frame. My only hope was that they’d leave me be until my sailor came for me - followed closely by the hope that he would never come for me at all. Selfishness and fear stopped me praying for the latter, but it was driven by an intense need for him to be okay. I cursed my survival instinct, this room I found myself in, my willingness to put my trust in a runaway youth – but more than anything, I cursed the men that held me here, and the cruelty of humanity.

I also cursed my own damn bad luck when the door opened and Walker stepped through once more, a cattle prod in hand.

“On your feet, dyke.”

I simply narrowed my eyes, refusing to give the slur legitimacy by responding to it, and he smirked, making the end of his prong crackle and spark. “I won’t ask twice.”

“I’d still ignore if you did,” I quipped back; my trembling removed some of the intimidation from my words, however, and he snorted, moving closer.

“I thought you weren’t going to ask again,” I snorted, continuing to meet his glare with cold defiance, and he lunged, my frozen joints too stiff and sluggish to avoid the blow. The end of the prod landed between my ribs, and I cried out, muscles convulsing and spasming as the volts burned through my body.

By the time I slumped to the floor, weak and twitching, he was laughing aloud, leaning over me with a grin. “Aw, what’s wrong? No funny retort for me now?” My mouth moved silently, and he leaned closer, hand curled theatrically around his ear. “What was that? I don’t seem to be able to hear y-”

He cut off with a grunt as I flung myself at his middle, calling on the reserves of my strength to send him sprawling to the floor, the prod spilling from his grasp and rolling across the concrete with a din. We scrabbled in unison, but I was at a disadvantage – he had twice as many arms, and my motivation wasn’t able to bridge the gap. His fingers closed around the metal rod a heartbeat before I skimmed it, jerking the barbaric tool out of reach. Our proximity didn’t allow him to deliver another charge, to he simply swung the prod in my direction, leaving me wheezing and retching in blinding in pain as it collided with my already-broken ribs.

I could only lay and whimper, my breaths coming in short, sharp gasps as I fought for some semblance of cognisance. Walker was back on his feet, panting hard, snarling viciously as his fingers tangled in my hair to hoist me bodily from the ground, bringing his face close to mine as he sneered. “Bad choice, freak,” he purred, pausing for only a moment before jerking his head forward to collide heavily with my nose, earning a yelp as the bone shattered under the blow.

I was blinded by tears as he dragged me from the room, helpless to do anything but obediently follow the hand in my hair as I choked on the blood, stumbling and dumb.

“Finally! What took so- Fuck! What the hell did you do? This isn’t going to work if he isn’t recognisable, idiot!”

The sound of flesh colliding with flesh punctuated the snarling voice, and the hand left my hair, leaving me to sink to my knees, coughing blood onto the floor as I clawed desperately at the ground, fighting violently for each breath.

A hand cupped my chin, surprisingly gentle as my head was tipped up, the face of the Captain blurred by the water still gathered along my lash line. “Look at that face,” he tutted, shaking his head sympathetically, holding me more firmly as I tried to turn my gaze toward a pained cry. “No, no - just look here. It’s okay.” He offered me an insincere smile, eyes flicking over my shoulder, jaw stiffening as he nodded to someone unknown behind me. “See? Everything is okay. I just need to remind some of my men that failure to follow orders is not going to work here.”

I blinked hard, trying to flush the last of the tears from my vision, throat still thick and clammy with the taste of my own blood. “Why me?” I breathed, voice cracking. “Why do you think he’s going to care enough about me to track us down? To stop doing what he loves?”

The smile returned, more genuine now, a cruel turn of his lip taunting me. “Oh, he’s very partial to his crew, I hear. Especially his little pet.” A soft growl escaped me, quickly followed by a grunt as his fist found my gut, waves of nausea overwhelming me, spots darkening my vision. “See? That’s how we do it, boys. Keep the bruises below the collar – we need that pretty face intact, don’t we?” He moved to his feet, staring down at me as his gaze grew cold. “Make sure this one knows exactly what we’ll do to him if he doesn’t do as we tell him. I’ll go and deal with the petulant child with impulse control issues.”

He stepped away, leaving four men to close in on me, not looking back as the blows began to land – heavy military boots tenderising every inch of my flesh covered by fabric, obediently avoiding my face. He didn’t turn even as I cried out, and I kept my gaze on him until he slipped through the half-open door, finally curling into a protective ball under the endless volley of kicks.

By the time the Captain returned, I’d been dragged upright into a chair, barely conscious as I wheezed and fought for breath. The blood trickled steadily from the corner of my mouth, spraying the floor when I coughed, the motion causing a searing pain across my ribcage and a soft whimper to leave my bitten lips.

He assessed me for a moment, moving closer to grasp my chin, tipping my head from side to side roughly. “… Good. Not so hard to listen, is it? These foreign boys – no discipline.” He nodded approvingly to his soldiers, still stood around me in silence. Not a word had been said as they’d beaten me, even when I’d broken and begged them to stop, every inch of me aching and pulsing with pain.

Please. Please, Lieutenant Tyne…

Please don’t come for me.

They won’t let you leave with a promise. They’ll kill you. I can’t watch you die…

The Captain cleared his throat as he pointed over his shoulder, gesturing into the far corner. “See that?” I nodded silently as I followed his thumb, a camera pointed in my direction. “That was broadcasting everything – every moment of my boys here having their fun with you – straight to loverboy’s cell phone. I have it on good authority that he watched every second; he was quite upset, by all accounts.” He grinned, and I snarled again, the fire of fight flickering weakly in my chest at the thought of my Captain being tormented. “Yes, yes – very scary. You can barely sit up; you’re not exactly in a state to be making threats.” Defiance kept my back straight, fingers curling against the arm of the chair where I was tied, but the warning rumble in my chest died as blood gurgled in my throat once more, making me hack and struggle for breath until it passed. “Poor boy. Don’t worry – we’re almost done with you for today. Just one more thing you have to do.”

He moved from my line of sight, and I didn’t have the energy to turn my head. I could only sit, hunched and exhausted, until he returned, setting up a tripod in front of me, the mounted camera pointing at my face. “You are going to give a message to that Captain of yours.”

I shook my head fiercely, the motion making my stomach churn, jaw clenched. “No.”

An eyebrow raised, and he nodded over my shoulder. My groan was ragged as I slumped to the side, side aching with the force of the blow. “Would you like to reconsider?”

By the time I was eventually returned to my cell, I was limp and bloody, each breath coming with the telltale rasp of broken ribs through still-swollen lips.

Everything hurt.

The split along my cheekbone had been raggedly stitched closed and cleaned, blood wiped from my skin with an utter absence of care and consideration. When I’d been deemed acceptable – and my co-operation had been dragged from my reluctant lips one blow at a time – the camera had started rolling, and I pleaded with my invisible lover to rescue me.

“If you don’t get in touch, they’re going to kill me, Greg. Please.”

“I don’t know where I am; you won’t be able to find me. Don’t waste time looking.”

“I’m scared.”

The lines I’d been forced to deliver haunted me, reverberating in my aching skull without pause. I hoped he’d see the plea in my eyes – would see that I didn’t want to be doing this, that I didn’t want him to come for me.

I’d have gladly given my life for his to keep him safe – especially considering I had no confidence that they’d actually let me go, whether he showed up or not. I wasn’t even certain I’d be here if he surrendered himself for me; they’d already planned to sell me off, after all.

Tomorrow…

They were selling me to the highest bidder, where I’d be used and abused to their heart’s content, with no regard for me. For my sanity, or autonomy, or comfort. I’d be a slave to their whims and wants.

I’d rather die.

The night passed slowly, painfully, in an endless cycle of trying and failing to cradle my broken body in a comfortable position. Each time I began to drift off, an ache or sharp stab of pain would startle me awake, jerking my injured limbs and making me whimper. The thin mattress beneath me proved no match for the protruding wire frame, and after a few hours I dragged it to the floor, trading piercing discomfort for the seeping cold of the concrete. My bones ached at the creeping chill, the metal inside my shoulder radiating pain through my chest.

It was the longest night of my life, but I’d have done it a hundred times over to keep the door from opening.

But none of my prayers and begging meant a thing – time marched on, in the way it is known to do, and eventually the door opened once more. I blinked at the harsh light streaming into the space, momentarily blinding me and leaving only a vague, hulking outline.

“Up.”

I scrambled to my feet obediently, bones still aching at the memory of what happened last time I dared refuse their orders. The brightness eased, revealing a few blurry details – the sharp cut of a jaw and the swell of strong muscles, both as intimidating as each other in their own way. He stepped closer, and I flinched, fingers curling into a defensive fist automatically, earning a wry smirk. “Don’t bother. I’ve been told my aim is to keep the facial bruising to a minimum – but there’s nothing stopping me from snapping a few more of your ribs. So be good, and come quietly.” I hesitated for a moment longer, muscles tense, before relaxing in resignation, my hand loosening weakly. His face spread into a lazy smile, and he jerked his head indicatively over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

What choice do I have?

I slunk forward, falling into step behind him, my movements pained and slow. He hardly glanced at me as he turned, and certainly gave no consideration to my discomfort; when I couldn’t match his pace, his hand wrapped in the scruff of my shirt, and I yelped as he jerked me forward, scrabbling uselessly against the floor in an effort to find my feet.

I felt... Cowed, and humiliated, at how easily I’d become helpless. The pain coating every inch of me had a lot to answer for – but more than anything, I felt stripped bare and vulnerable without my arm, all the fight taken from me with the metal. It had been longer than I could remember since I’d been without it for any extended period of time, the sensation clumsy and lopsided.

Weak.

And so it was with a lowered head that I let myself be pushed into a chair, hands rough as they poked and prodded at me. My skin was scrubbed roughly, changing dirt- and blood-streaked sun-kissed tan to sensitive crimson, raw and aching. Harsh fingers on my chin pulled my head upright to wipe the skin clear, pale eyes calculating as they peered at my face, and my mouth dropped silently.

“... I- Walker?” I breathed, wincing at the split across the bridge of his nose, the skin swollen and vibrant, a long gash running from eyebrow to cheekbone. His gaze flicked to mine for a heartbeat before he returned to task, jaw set. “What the hell happened to y-”

His fist meeting my gut drove the air from my lungs with a pained grunt, free hand wrapping in my hair to jerk me back upright. “Shut the fuck up, and hold still,” he spat, eyes narrowed hatefully. “I don’t need pity from someone like you.”

My muscles tensed with annoyance, and I swallowed any further questions, staying still and silent under his rough touch. Fine. Fuck you, then. I hope you rot in the prison you made for yourself.

Nodding with approval, he moved behind me, the touch of cold metal at my throat making me panic. I jerked forward to meet hard resistance, pressure on my windpipe making me cough and splutter as a soft click finalised my slavery.

His fingers caught on the mats in my hair as he dragged through it quickly, smoothing it as best the dirt and sweat allowed. I went to stand when he stopped, presuming him to be done with me, but was met with a snarl and a vicious jerk on the collar. “Stay,” he spat, the flat of his hand meeting the back of my head sharply. I cowered under the blow, fingers curling tight around the chain joined to my ankles, wishing more than anything that I could do something – anything – other than fearfully obey.

I should be fighting. Trying to run. Trying to get away, I noted distantly – but terror and pain held me fast, more afraid of the consequences when I was inevitably caught than I was ashamed of meekly going along with what they desired of me.

The feeling of the blade against the nape of my neck made me stiffen, sweat beading under the sharp tip. I hardly dared breathe as he applied pressure slowly, the edge working slightly into my flesh before jerking down sharply, cutting lightly through the flesh as the material of shirt split under the pressure. I let out a soft yelp, and he snorted. “Shut up. It’s just a flesh wound – get a grip.”

Heat pooled beneath my cheekbones as the fabric was torn from my body, recoiling in shame at the exposure. I couldn’t help the quiet whimper that escaped my lips as the blade met my waistband, and Walker snorted, shaking his head. “Cry all you like. I don’t care; people want to see what they’re buying, after all.”

“You don’t have to do this,” I whispered, turning my gaze to him desperately, shame and revulsion overpowering the fear at last. “Please, Walker… Please don’t do this.”

His eyes met mine for a moment, and I held my breath, staring intently for any sign of reluctance or guilt. But there was only cold detachment as he considered his response, a smile playing lightly on his lips as he leaned in. “You’re right,” he murmured, tapping the tip of the knife against my hipbone thoughtfully. “I don’t have to do this…” His smirk grew wider as the blade dug in once more, and a low chuckle sounded beside my ear. “I want to.”

I snarled and jerked away as best I could, until his free hand found my throat, pinning me back against my seat as he worked the knife under my trousers, cutting through the elastic and material with ease until I sat only in my underwear, legs clamped together in shame. He rolled his eyes again as he released me, stepping back, lip curled in disgust.

“I have no interest in touching you, don’t worry – you disgust me. And besides,” he gestured vaguely over his shoulder with the knife, grinning maniacally, “Someone out there is going to pay a lot to break you in; who would I be to deny them their money’s worth?”

I bared my teeth hatefully, a snarl of pure disdain building in my chest. “I disgust you? I’m not the one selling people into slavery. Say what you will about me, but at least I’m not some scumbag trafficker.”

He stiffened, light eyes growing dark as he moved closer once more, his voice low and soft and full of venom. “See, that’s just it, isn’t it? You’re not people. We don’t deal in people. We deal in exotic animals, and freaks. And there’s certainly nothing exotic about you.” His fingers wrapped around my collar once more, jerking me to my feet, and I scrambled to keep some weight on my toes as desperation threatened to overpower me. “Just one more touch, I think….” he murmured, cocking his head thoughtfully before dropping me back into my seat to cough and gasp for breath. He stepped away, and I rubbed at my raw throat, feeling the weight of the metal against my neck – unignorable and inescapable.

My hand was swatted aside, and I froze obediently as his own found the collar once more, the other holding up a tag swinging lightly from a silver ring. “This is you now. Creatures like you don’t have names, do they? Not until their master gives them one.” He hummed tunelessly under his breath as he attached the tag to the collar, stepping back with a smirk. “On your feet, Asset Eleven.”

Leather cut into the corners of my mouth as I was led by a thick chain around my collar, laid bare for all to see - soft, weak, pliable.

Fragile.

The brush of the tag against my throat made me nauseous, the inscription feeling burned to my skin.

Asset.

Is that all I am now?

Property, to be bought and sold?

Is my humanity worth so little?

I grunted around the gag, earning a jerk to the leash and a snarl from my captor. “Stop it. Behave yourself – it’s for your own good, trust me. Some of these men would be looking for a spirited one to break. You want the ones who are looking for someone meek,” Walker warned, shooting me a glare. “So shut the hell up, and be good.”

With a wince, I ducked my head, stomach rolling at the idea of people who would relish in breaking my spirit.

Not that there was much left to break.

The bright lights pointed at the makeshift stage made the space beyond an endless darkness, punctuated only with gleaming eyes and flashes of white paddles embossed with black numbers. I was blinded as I was jerked forward, stumbling in the spotlights, blinded and shell-shocked at where I found myself. The mumbles and mutters died out, a stunned silence settling over the gathered group. It was hard to distinguish, between the half-glances and impenetrable darkness, quite how many people were sat staring – but the reflection of light on eyes came from two dozen points, all focused unerringly on me. I pulled instinctively against my chains, filled with the need to cover myself – to ball up into an impenetrable mass, tucking softness and scar away from their prying. But I only managed to tug painfully on my shoulder, metal biting into my skin as I strained until a sharp tug on my leash make me cease.

“Asset Eleven. Previously a member of the US Army, most recently sailing under the Shark Defence Initiative. As you can see, this product is somewhat defective, and has experienced total traumatic removal of the left arm at the shoulder. However…” I looked to the Captain as he paused, but he didn’t so much as glance at me, grinning broadly as he gestured with the energy of a ringmaster. “Its strength is not to be underestimated. The Asset also comes with a detachable left arm – this should be applied with caution, following a strict training schedule, as the Asset tends to become more volatile when attached. But the true benefit of this product lies in the unique interaction between strength and pleasure.” His smile grew wider as the murmurs recommenced, and the Captain moved closer, his fingertips brushing lightly over the scars at my chest, making my skin crawl. “The creature you see before you is female – and unused.”

I fought back the tears pricking at my eyes as the mutters increased, their curiosity piqued. I strained to object, but the gag smothered my words, and the Captain jerked sharply on my leash, chuckling tersely. “As you can see, it has some behavioural issues… This one would require a firm hand.”

Wincing, I dropped my head once more as Walker’s words echoed in my mind, carefully keeping my eyes away from the men who were jeering and whooping at the very notion of breaking me down.

“We’ll start the bidding at… What say you? $100?”

I couldn’t help it – my jaw dropped in disbelief. Hand after hand raised, a number of paddles vying for the opportunity to own me. I was… Irrationally offended.

So not only am I being bought and sold like goods – I’m not even valuable goods?

That feels worse. Why does that feel worse?

I swallowed the bile building in my throat, jaw set with righteous indignation as I raised my chin, refusing to be cowed by these men who could decide my life was worth so little. How could I let these men – these monsters – decide my worth? I stared out at the gathering with hatred burning in my gaze, not permitting my eyes to lower for a heartbeat longer.

“Five hundred dollars – do we have eight?”

“A thousand to the fine gentleman on the left here; will anyone raise the price, or will our auction end here? Remember, whoever purchases this Asset will not only be getting a strong one, but also the opportunity to break in that sweet virgin puss- There we go, twelve hundred!”

“Fifteen hundred going once, going tw- sixteen hundred! Got in there at the last moment, sir – ma’am, I do apologise! Well done. Anyone else? No? Once…. Twice… Sold!”

A polite round of applause snapped me from my hateful trance, and I followed the eyes of the captain, but could see little in the darkness save a figure moving through the masses, head down. Tugging sharply on the chain around my neck, I could do nothing but glare venomously into the abyss as I shuffled away, the bonds that held me fast limiting my speed.

Walker was once again the one handling me when I was led down seemingly endless halls, the adrenaline and fight leaving me, shoulders slumped in defeat.

“I warned you,” he snorted, shaking his head without glancing back. “All you managed to do was make us richer, and probably ended up being bought by someone you wouldn’t want to be.”

I snarled my distaste through the gag, finally earning a brief look, his eyes rolling. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. You’ll regret the attitude when you’re chained up in basement somewhere crying for that fag you call a C-”

I reacted without thinking – without consideration for my restraints – as he came to a stop, free hand resting lightly on the doorknob before us. My unaltered shoulder met the middle of his spine, sending him slamming into the wood with a grunt and a thud. When the door splintered under the blow, I winced, stepping back – I’d managed the attack only with the element of surprise, but anyone on the other side of the door was almost certainly than I could handle right now.

Even if I die for that, it will have been worth it.

When Walker hit the floor, sprawling with a groan atop the split wood, I gazed dumbfounded at the duo stood on the other side, seemingly just as shocked to see me as I was to the see them.

My legs gave way as a sob burst from my chest, terror and relief sending me sinking to the floor. My Captain moved quickly, catching me and crushing me against his body with murmured words of reassurance I couldn’t make out through the blood pounding in my ears. I could think of nothing save burying my face in his shirt, inhaling the scent of ocean and sweat and safety desperately, drinking in his unique aroma like a drowned man coming up for air.

He held me like that only for a few moments before drawing back, gaze soft on mine as his fingers gently reached for my gag. We winced in unison as he removed it – me in pain and he in sympathy, the material sticking where it had sliced into the corners of my mouth. Licking my lips, they parted to ask any of the hundred questions circulating my mind, but the intention was interrupted by a low groan from behind him.

His eyes turned dark as he looked around, the hands on my body unconsciously growing tighter, and he stood, still cradling me carefully to his chest despite my size. My fingers tangled desperately in his shirt, breath hitching as I clung until my joins began to ache. “You’re here… I can’t believe you’re here. How are you here?”

Glancing at me briefly, he brushed a soothing, tender kiss over my forehead. “Later. We need to move.”

“And this one?” Neri prompted, pushing back her hood and making the prone ex-sailor grunt with a fierce kick to the ribs. Greg’s gaze was hard once more as they lowered to his former crewmate, hatred filling the mahogany depths.

“I won’t make the same mistake twice,” he replied softly. Gently, he placed me on my feet, untangling my grip and gesturing his first mate closer to take my weight as I slumped against him. “Take him the way we came, and wait for me there. He’s seen enough.”

I growled weakly in protest, but relief had drained any dregs of adrenaline-fueled energy from my system – without Neri’s arm around my waist, I doubted I’d be upright. Despite my feeble attempts to complain, she guided me unsteadily forward, past the man now staring fearfully up at his old Captain and through a door on the other side of the small room. I expected her hand on the soft curve of my hip to make me uncomfortable – but I was too stunned, too emotionally numbed by the last two days to feel much of anything at all. There was only exhaustion as she closed the door behind us, letting me lean against the wall.

“Are you okay?” she asked quietly, drowning out the murmurs on the other side of the wood. I offered her a weak, tired smile, shrugging my shoulder.

“I’ve been better… But I’ll be okay.”

She nodded once, the gesture short and sharp as her eyes assessed the corridor beyond us. “Glad to hear it, sailor. I don’t like flying; I’d really rather not do that again anytime soon, okay? So if you could avoid getting kidnapped again anytime in the near future, that’d be great.”

I snorted softly, affectionately rolling my eyes. “I’ll do my best, but no promises. I’m pretty kidnappable, after all.” She laughed aloud, and we shared a grin for a moment before my expression broke once more and grew serious. “… He shouldn’t be here. It’s him they’re after; he shouldn’t have-”

“There was no way he wasn’t coming after you, so don’t even bother finishing that thought,” she interrupted absently, continuing to glance warily around. “These guys are dangerous, but they’re stupid. I got into the auction without issue, and he used the distraction to get back here. Nobody knows we’re here.”

“Casualties?” I probed softly, and the door opened, the Captain stepping forward with a silver key dangling between two fingers.

“Only one,” he replied evenly, and I swallowed as he turned to close the door deliberately behind him. “Nobody that will be missed.”

“I’m sorry,” I murmured as he knelt before me, and he glanced up with a frown, hands pausing on the chains around my feet.

“What on Earth are you sorry for, Snowflake?” His head cocked sweetly, brow furrowed, and I couldn’t help but smile, fingertips moving to follow the sharp line of his jaw in adoration.

“I’m sorry you had to do that. He worked with you for a long time – you shouldn’t have had to-”

His mouth on mine interrupted me, moving firmly as he held me tightly to his chest, one hand finding my hair to keep me pressed against him. I could only sigh into the kiss, eyes squeezing shut as tears pricked my lash line. “I’d burn the world down for you, Schneeflocke. I’m in love with you.”

Shock had my lids snapping open once more as I stumbled back in surprise, my jaw slack. “You- what?”

His smile was tender as he tried not to chuckle, amusement sparkling in the burnt sienna depths of his eyes. “I love you, Winter. Of course I do... I’ve never been so afraid as when I thought I’d lost you. After I got that live stream, I thought... I thought you were dead. I don’t think I’ve ever been so grateful to see your face as when I got that video – even if it made me furious in equal measure.” He reached out once more, carefully skimming the stitches on my cheekbone with a wince. “We’d already narrowed down the stream’s location to East Azerbaijan, so... I was on my way before we knew exactly where you were. I wasn’t risking you disappearing on me again, sweet boy.”

I blushed softly, tilting my face into his touch. “I love you too, Lieutenant Tyne.”

We stood that way for a few heartbeats, grinning like fools and staring into one another’s eyes, until Neri cleared her throat pointedly. “Not to interrupt what is, truly, a very sweet moment – but we really need to get out of here...”

Greg held my gaze for a moment longer, seemingly as unable to look away as I was, before clearing his throat, shifting his hand to mine. “Let’s go.”

My collar hit the ground as we stepped away, and he left it where it fell without looking back.

I followed them through an endless maze of corridors, blindly trusting Neri as she led the way, the arm around my waist the only focus of my attentions. His touch on my bare skin was all I could register, the blank walls passing without notice – but the exhaustion was beginning to seep into my bones, and I started to stumble more and more as my depleted body struggled to keep going.

“We’re almost there. Almost out,” Greg murmured, pressing a kiss to my temple gently. I nodded weakly – before slamming to a halt, almost slipping from his grasp at my sudden change of direction.

“We can’t. We- I need my arm. And there’s so many birds, and lizards – we can’t just- We have to do something,” I begged, fingers curling tight against his bicep in my desperation. “Please, Greg. We have to go back. We have to do something.” The Captain blinked in disbelief before shaking his head hard, mouth opening to object, but I scowled and interrupted. “All this started when you left me to save some baby lizards. We met because we both wanted to save the oceans. Are we really going to be able to live with ourselves if we walk away from this now?”

He watched me for a moment before glancing to Neri, who simply shrugged helplessly. “You can barely stand,” he argued, turning his pleading gaze back to me. “You can’t do this right now, Snowflake. I need to get you out of here; you’re the most important thing in the world to me.”

I leaned up to kiss his cheek gently, offering him a soft smile as I stepped free of his embrace, trying to pretend my legs weren’t shaking. “If I don’t do this, I’m not the man you fell in love with. I’m going back, Captain. I won’t judge you if you don’t judge me, but I can’t walk away from this. I won’t condemn anyone to captivity, human or animal. And there could be more people here,” I added, my voice lowering as I verbalised the ugly truth that had been weighing on me. “I can’t… I need to know.”

His eyes cleared, brow relaxing, and he nodded once, reaching out to squeeze my fingers once more. “Well, I can’t let you do this alone, can I?”

Neri snorted, shaking her head, long hair swaying about her waist. “You’re mad, both of you,” she scoffed, and glanced once more toward the exit before looking back at us with a sigh. “I’m not missing out on being part of this story. Let’s go.”

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